


Stories Half Remembered

by Cuffs_Alister



Series: Bats, Birds, Bookstores, and Bargains [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bookstores, Pity Dick Grayson, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuffs_Alister/pseuds/Cuffs_Alister
Summary: Tim has been working himself even harder than usual, and Jason has been accruing books at an alarming rate.   Dick is understandably worried, but why is no one else?





	Stories Half Remembered

**A Rooftop Across from Faerie Vale Independent Bookstore: Gotham City**

To say Dick was worried would be an understatement. Jason had been causing the Wayne Manor library to expand exponentially, and Tim had been spending less and less time at home, between his days as Wayne Enterprises CEO, nights as Red Robin, and in-betweens as the owner of Through the Vale coffee shop. He almost seemed to be getting thinner, the circles under his eyes getting deeper.

With this in mind, Dick thought it was understandable that he was currently perched on a rooftop across from this bookstore, in a thunderstorm. He would risk a lot for his brothers. Apparently that included testing his luck by risking lightning strike. This was probably a poor decision, given that his luck was rather terrible. Not as bad as some members of the family, mind you, but still bad.

After a strike on the lightning rod behind him, Dick decided that maybe this was a bit much. The sneeze that followed encouraged him to seek shelter. Unfortunately, the only place that seemed to be open at that moment was the bookstore. He rappelled down the side of the building, and sneezed again. The sign outside read: Faerie Vale.

“So that’s where the name of Tim’s coffee shop came from…” Dick muttered. He would have preferred to enter the shop as Dick Grayson, rather than as Nightwing, but there wasn’t much to be done about that.

As he entered the store, soaking wet, he had to repress a shiver. He shouldn’t have been shivering. The Nightwing uniform was insulated. No, it was something to do with the air in the bookstore. It almost smelled too fresh for recycled, climate controlled, Gotham air. There was a vague _skritch skritch_ coming from somewhere to his right that left him with tingles up and down his spine. Something was trying to get him to relax. And that was enough to put him more on guard. 

“Welcome to Faerie Vale, Mr. Nightwing. Is there anything I can help you with today?” a girl with electric blue hair and wide eyes asked. Dick reasoned that she must be a bookseller.

“A-a- _achoo!”_ Dick sneezed again. “Actually, I was just trying to get out of the rain. You know you guys are the only shop open on this street right now?” Even he could tell he sounded stuffed up. 

The bookseller looked him up and down, scowling. _That’s not usually how civilians look at me... _

“I’ll get you some towels. If you drip on any of the books, you will pay for them,” she said, before turning on her toes and disappearing behind the counter.

“A bookstore with towels on hand?” The question had hardly passed through Dick’s mind before it disappeared. Whatever was telling him to relax, it was winning.

Dick did his best to stay away from the merchandise. He vaguely noticed the beauty of the design of the shop. He could see how his brothers had been drawn in, and why after that villain attack, months ago, a check had been sent from the Wayne enterprises account for what must have been the cost of the windows in the front. Even in the strangely warm light of the ceiling fixtures, he could tell the glass was double paned and shatter proof. 

“Here you go. I brought a few over just in case, and a set of dry clothes so you don’t get sick. That would be unfortunate for you, and for Gotham, wouldn’t it?” She smiled, close-lipped. It wasn’t nearly as creepy as Harley’s, but there was still something about it that made Dick uneasy. 

“Ah, thank you,” he said, taking the towels to dry himself off. The bookseller flinched. _Flinched? At “thank you?” _

Dick smiled awkwardly and continued, “You wouldn’t happen to know how long this storm is supposed to last for, would you?”

“I would imagine quite a while yet,” the bookseller said. Dick couldn’t help but think she sounded… happy about that. “Why don’t you change out of your wet clothes.” It was a command, not a suggestion.

Normally, Dick would have declined. He was technically still on patrol and needed to be in his uniform. Something nudged him toward the bathroom at the back of the store though. “Alright,” he said. “You sure these are going to fit me though?” 

“Most definitely,” the bookseller said. There was that smile again, almost more of a smirk.

As he entered the bathroom, Dick heard another crack of thunder. Another familiar shiver ran through him. This time, he recognized it. 

“It feels like Raven in here,” he muttered. “But… slightly off. It’s not quite like Zatanna either. Definitely magic though.” 

When he stepped back into the shop, he was back on guard. Dick Grayson was not about to let himself be bested by unknown magic. 

“Do you have a bag I could purchase, maybe a backpack or something?” Something told him that _purchasing_ rather than _using _was important. He wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“You can use this,” the bookseller gave him a small backpack. One of the straps was broken. His suit would just barely fit inside, without the escrima sticks. 

“Thanks,” he said. Again, the bookseller flinched. This time, a vague memory, almost more like a dream, of a story from the circus stirred in the back of Dick’s mind. 

_They are creatures who value words, who value contracts. The way humans throw around the words “thank you”, as though it were enough, is offensive to them._

If only he could remember who They were. 

Dick tucked the Nightwing suit into the bag. His escrima sticks were on the floor next to him. Other gadgets were stuffed in the pockets of the gym shorts the bookseller had given him. “I really feel like I should pay you for this. I feel wrong just taking it.”

The bookseller sighed. “If you insist then,” she said. 

“What do you want for it?” Immediately, Dick felt he had made a mistake.

She cocked her head. “You have no proposal?” 

Dick did his best to look her straight in the eye. It was hard in the mask though. “Look,” he said, “money really isn’t an object.” He hoped she wouldn’t ask for too ridiculous an amount. 

There was that smile again. Dick was really starting to hate that look. “What if I ask for something else in return? Something of value to you?” 

That… wasn’t good. Dick tried to think of everything she could conceivably ask for. One of his gadgets, his secret identity, or that of any of his family would be a major problem. Something told him she wasn’t going to ask for any of that though. 

_Never make a deal with Them. They will structure the contract in such a way as to cause you the most trouble. Even if it seems to be in your favor, it won’t be._

“I mean… there’s a lot I value. I’m not sure I have anything else that _you_ value though,” Dick said. Somehow, he knew, though, that he wasn’t going to be able to talk himself out of this one. He got a feeling that fighting was off the table too. 

“Anyway, what’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you _you_ in my head,” he added. 

“Call me Claire,” the bookseller said, distracted. Dick wondered why it was taking her so long to decide what she wanted. It shouldn’t have been that hard, right? 

Finally, Claire decided on what she wanted. Dick was starting to be lulled into that sense of security again. The _skritch_ing had become relaxing, almost enjoyable to listen to. Dick knew he should be on guard, but it was just so hard.

“Humans say the eyes are a window to the soul. What I desire, in return for the kindness I have shown you, is a glimpse of yours, Mr. Nightwing,” Claire intoned. 

How had Dick never noticed how beautiful she was? How soothing her voice? There was one problem with her request though.

“Uh… I don’t think I can do that. I would need to take my mask off…” 

This time, when Claire smiled, it was open mouthed, cruelly sharp teeth on display. “I don’t think you have much of a choice. A look into your soul is what I desire, in return for all I have done for you.”

There was a pause. Then Claire continued, “Alternatively, we could keep you here indefinitely. The others and I have a great appreciation for art of all forms, and we have seen your acrobatics on the surrounding roofs.”

“Can we keep him? I like this human,” another voice said from behind Dick. He jumped. How had she snuck up on him? 

Dick pivoted toward the other voice, another shorter woman, this time with golden hair, hanging long over her ears and shoulders. There was an inexplicable gravity to her. Dick had the sudden urge to kneel -- one he held back from acting on. Logically, he knew she was just another person. 

She stepped closer to him, even as he backed away. “You may call me Emile,” she said. Her smile was kinder than Claire’s, but still didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I am the owner of this place. Has Claire been hospitable toward you?”

Dick found himself backed into Claire. Emile was still advancing. Dick absently thought she seemed to glide across the floor, rather than walk. 

“Uh… yeah. She’s been great. I want to pay you guys back, but I don’t think I can give Claire what she wants,” he said. 

“Eye contact is a human courtesy, is it not? I do not think that such an odd request,” There was a gleam in her eyes, a sharpness behind the kindness. 

“You see though, if I take my mask off to make eye contact, then you all will know who I really am, and not only is that dangerous for me, but it’s dangerous for you guys too,” Dick said. He jumped when Claire wrapped her arms around him from behind. There was a strength in her grip that he _definitely_ wasn’t expecting. 

Emile tucked her hair behind one of her ears. One of her _pointed_ ears. Dick really hoped the distress beacon in his pocket was working properly. The situation had deteriorated quickly and dramatically. 

“We will be safe,” Claire breathed on his neck. “If you stay here with us, you would be safe too, from villains, from heroes, even from humans who consider their people more _civilized_ than yours.”

Dick stiffened in her embrace. _ His people? She couldn’t know…_ Emile was close enough now to unmask him herself. He tried to move to stop her, but Claire’s arms held his own in place. _When did she…_

His breathing picked up as Emile reached for the mask. He struggled to pull free of Claire, but she was too strong. Before he could say or do anything else, it was gone. 

“Oh you are _beautiful_ for a human,” Emile said. “And the same coloring as those brothers… are you one of them, too?”

Dick didn’t answer verbally, but something in his face must have given it away. Emile held his cheek and Claire whispered in his ear, “You could be ours, Richard John Grayson.”

At his name, the fight finally left him.

_Above all, never give Them your true name. It will give Them power over you, to control you. They will make you theirs. There is no escape._


End file.
